


Underneath This Fragile Frame

by XV13



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bobby Nash Acting as Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parental Figure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evan "Buck" Buckley Whump, Graphic Description of Injuries, Healing, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Evan "Buck" Buckley, Major Character Injury, Other, Post Season 3 Finale, Worried Bobby Nash, minor original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XV13/pseuds/XV13
Summary: The smell of soot hung thickly in the air, making each inhale effortful and slightly painful. Bobby's lungs screamed their request for clear oxygen, but from the current state of the room surrounding them, it would be a long time before they would feel sated again.[Bobby and Buck take an unexpected fall during a call gone wrong, and will have to deal with the aftermath as they await rescue. Post 3x18.]
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash
Comments: 12
Kudos: 239





	Underneath This Fragile Frame

The smell of soot hung thickly in the air, making each inhale effortful and slightly painful. Bobby's lungs screamed their request for clear oxygen, but from the current state of the room surrounding them, it would be a long time before they would feel sated again.

* * *

It had occurred so quickly – Bobby covered Buck as they broke through the front door of the old and rickety house. The shift itself had been relatively slow, a gracious gift considering the team was a man down. Eddie had phoned that morning to say Christopher was sick, and Bobby hadn’t paid any attention to the fact they would be a man short as he insisted Eddie take the day off. Family always came first. The incoming call said there was a small house fire, with only one senior inside the home. The senior had called for help, but explained that they were unable to make a prompt exit due to a medical condition.

The plan was clear, and the team was prepared. Break down the door. Locate the homeowner, and get them out. Attend to the fire, and hope that the meaning of the words “small fire" didn’t become construed during the communication between the caller, operator, and then Bobby.

Hen and Chim (still the inseparable pair, at least until Hen passed her medical school entrance exam) were poised on the front lawn, a regulated distance from the blaze. They had their supplies and their minds at the ready for the emergence of the unknown. Dispatch hadn’t specified what kind of injuries the senior was facing.

“On my count,” Bobby ordered Buck. “One-"

“Wait Cap-" Buck interrupted. “Are we sure the person inside isn’t near the door?”

The younger man had a careful hold on the battering ram, and Bobby couldn’t help but notice how far Buck had really come since his first year at the 118. What once was a boy so focused on the adrenaline of the call, was now a man who – while still abrasive and likely to break the rules – never failed to think a few steps ahead, and always have empathy for others.

“Dispatch said the male is trapped in the kitchen area, which means he shouldn’t be near the door frame,” Bobby answered, with a sly smile on his face. “But smart thinking there, Buck"

Preparing his stance again, a small smile on his lips at the praise, Buck nodded to signal his preparedness.

“One, two…three!”

The ram hit the door. The hinges buckled helplessly under the sudden pressure, and smoke began to file out of the empty square of space.

Bobby took his last clear breath and said, “Masks on, let’s move!”

This particular area of Los Angeles was home to some of the oldest houses ever built. Bobby knew they would have to prepare for possible code violations and their corresponding dangers, and had prepped the team as such on route; however, nothing could have prepared the two firefighters for the sight in front of them. What was once a small fire, was now out of control, and Bobby's first guess was that the speed at which it grew could be due to the mold that existed on the flooring and the walls. The decades old wallpaper was peeling and hanging off the walls. Each piece defied gravity as the heat of the flames loosened the adhesive used to stick it there by generations past. One of the beams from the ceiling had already partially collapsed, the one end impaling a hole into the floor.

Buck moved forward carefully, watching and testing his foot placements before he made them. He stopped in his tracks about halfway through the living room, and shook his head with a curse under his breath. “Bobby, the floor isn’t going to be able to hold us much longer-"

“Help!” A voice rang out. “Please somebody help!”

Both of the men snapped their heads towards the kitchen in unison. “LAFD, we are on our way to you!” Buck shouted. Buck scanned the area ahead of him, searching for a possible solution among a floor of impossibility.

“We need to find an alternative route from the outside,” Bobby stated.

“There’s no time, Cap. This fire is spreading too quick. If we stick to the edges of the room, we might have a shot at getting there!”

Buck’s shouts were barely audible over the snaps of the fire around them, growing hotter by the second even as Bobby thought they couldn’t get any worse.

“Staying to the side gives us a better chance, but it doesn’t eliminate the immanent likelihood of collapse-"

“We have to try!” Buck pleaded.

Another pained cry escaped from the kitchen. “Please help! It’s getting hot!”

Bobby met Buck’s eyes and knew that in Buck’s mind, the choice was already made. Something at the back of Bobby’s mind screamed with flashbacks of Buck laying under the firetruck – Bobby utterly helpless to soothe Buck’s pain. The other part of his mind remembered the bowling alley incident and train accident, and how sometimes Buck’s wildest ideas do in fact pay off.

And this was the crux of what made his job so difficult. Regulations would scream to turn back, but Buck and the trapped male are screaming to push on. It’s his call to make.

“Lead the way,” gestures Bobby.

The two men shuffled along the sides of the room, taking what felt like the longest route to a close destination. They are both too aware of how heavy their turnout gear weighs on their shoulders, and consequently, the floor. The wooden floorboards creaked ominously beneath every footfall. Not for the first time in his career, Bobby found himself holding his breath as he soldiered on. Every hesitation was another second they had to embrace the potential for disaster.

They round the framing of the kitchen, and see that the fire was most likely produced by an oven that looks almost as old as the house itself. The man looks like he may have fallen from the blast of the initial explosion. The fall has left him lying on his side, or perhaps he rolled into that position. His arm is facing the opposite way, no doubt a painful fracture. There are burns spreading all over his face and torso, his once pristine white shirt is now frayed and grey with char and soot. 

A whimper escapes the man’s lips. “My hip…”

Buck kneels next to the man, but shares a quick look with Bobby. For the man to not mention his burns, or the sickening angle of his arm, must mean the hip is in incredibly bad shape. “Sir, before we move you, did you hit your head in the fall?”

“No, my arm and hip broke my fall. Please get me out of here!”

“Captain!” Chimney's voice rang the radio. “Captain, Buck – you gotta move! The fire-"

“Cap!” Buck screamed.

Something swung into Bobby's field of vision before everything went cloudy.

There was a moment of weightlessness.

Then nothing.

* * *

Bobby awoke to almost complete darkness. Ashes blew in an invisible breeze in front of his face, only visible when they floated across a sliver of light. He struggled to grasp consciousness for what felt like hours, but realistically was probably minutes. Everything about the present time felt like it was moving in slow motion – including him. Bobby inspected his surroundings with the help of the small light.

_How long was I out?_

All three men must have fallen through the floor in the kitchen. Another large beam like the one at the front of the house must had fallen heavily between the firefighters and the victim, what little structural integrity the floor had left that fire hadn’t touched would’ve splintered open upon impact. They’d fallen into the lower levels of the house, though Bobby couldn’t tell if they’d fallen one floor or two. The fire seems to be dying out above them, the leftover emergency crews making good headway and leaving Bobby with one less thing to worry about.

As he continues to blink to clear his vision, Bobby winces. Lifting his left hand to his eye, he feels the telltale tackiness of blood sticking to his skin. It was a good sign that his helmet had stayed on and helped him break his fall. There was a big difference between having a small head wound from where the strap dug into his skin and a possible concussion, and having your head split open on all the debris around them.

He might even consider himself lucky. There wasn’t much pain despite the discomfort he felt upon inhaling. It could’ve been the smoke irritating his airways. It could have been the ribs he knew must have fractured on impact. It could have been the blooming bruise on his back and flank. It could have been the enormous weight on his torso, the object the shape of another person-

_Buck!_

The sight of his fellow firefighter perched stiff across his abdomen sent a panic so intense down his spine, that he no longer felt immobile. It made no sense, Buck was standing near the patient when the call over the radio came in. The only way he’d have been able to be on top of Bobby like this is if Buck had run and tackled him at top speed. Why would he do that? And where was the older man?

“Buck? Buck, can you hear me?”

Bobby didn’t know if he should move the man currently using him as a pillow. He didn’t suspect spinal injuries, but it was always a possibility. But if Buck didn’t move, neither of them were going to be able to make any headway towards rescue. Additionally, the only people who could help them out of here were completely out of sight.

_The radio, where did it go?_

Searching frantically, Bobby couldn’t find his own radio. It was likely buried under the rubble, knocked off his body upon impact. Luckily, he could see that Buck’s was still attached. Grasping it with a shaking hand, Bobby noticed the volume knob was knocked clean off. It would explain why he couldn’t hear any possible check-in’s from the team.

There was no reason to panic - there was protocol in place in case a scenario like this ever happened. While they couldn’t communicate with the team, the radio itself was still in working condition. It was also equipped with an emergency button on the side which Bobby pressed with might. The radio screen lit up red. They wouldn’t be able to hear any communications, but their signal would let the others know they were still alive and in need of rescue.

Bobby turned his attention back to the man in his lap. “Buck, if you can hear me – you need to wake up. You need to get moving. They are looking for us, but we need to make it easier for them than this.”

He felt himself growing frustrated at the lack of movement, when finally Buck twitched awake.

Buck began to stir, a groan escaping his lips. His first couple breaths taken while conscious were laborious. The feel of his shaky inhale and exhale was palpable against Bobby’s stomach due to their closeness. “Bobby?”

“I’m here. Are you alright?”

Instead of an answer, one of Buck’s hands moved from where it was laying previously out of sight. It searched with uncertainty in the dark to try and find purchase on the ground. It landed on a broken beam, and he used the leverage to push himself up. Though he was taking it slow, the small movement caused Buck to release a pained gasp. He seemingly aborted the mission, landing once again on Bobby.

The behavior was beyond unusual to witness, and Bobby’s panic rose to pure fear. “Buck, what happened?”

Buck just shook his head side to side. His breathing was still irregular. Every inhale was quick and held a fraction of a second too long, making every exhale quick and forced before the next sharp inhale. It was the type of breathing first responders normally associate with intense crying or injury, and Bobby didn’t feel any tears landing on his gear.

“Where does it hurt, Buck?” Bobby hoped by asking a question that could be answered non-verbally that he may have more luck getting answers.

“I’m fine, Cap,” Buck grits out of his teeth, and attempts to move again. He manages to push himself onto his knees this time. Bobby should feel relieved at the pressure on his chest alleviating, but there is still a feeling like he is unable to breathe when he sees Buck’s eyes pinched shut. Buck’s jaw is set forward, like he is grinding his teeth.

_He’s obviously in pain, but still trying to hide it._

In all honesty, Bobby should have anticipated such stubbornness. Since the lawsuit, Buck’s always been downplaying everything from minor aches and bruises, to small cuts. Bobby knew that was partially his fault, that Buck is still reluctant to show weakness in fear of losing his job. “We both know that isn’t true. If we are going to try and get out of here, your Captain needs to know about all the factors that stand in our way. I’m only going to ask once more Buck, where does it hurt?”

Buck hung his head and managed to loosen his tongue in the face of a direct order. “Something is wrong with my back.”

“Buck, why did you force yourself to move! You could have had a spinal fracture-"

“Not a fracture, Cap.” Buck tried to explain, leaning forward on his hands once more. There is already sweat on his brow from exertion of holding his weight up. “I think the beam might’ve scraped it.”

When Buck leans forward into the light, it reflects brightly off his turnout jacket. Now illuminated, Bobby can already see the large chunk of fabric missing in the center in a long vertical sweep. Bobby manages to push himself up, ignoring his own nausea from the sudden movement. Moving his legs out from in front of him to a kneeling position, now positioned to help, Bobby sighs. “Lie down and I’ll check it out.”

“We need to get the jacket off first,” Buck says in a low voice. Bobby doesn’t need to meet his eyes to know that the jacket is partially singed to his skin. This isn’t going to be like painlessly peeling a sunburn.

With a grim nod in understanding and a few whispered directions, Bobby and Buck manage to maneuver themselves into the light. When Buck pillows his head on his arms in front of him, Bobby finally gets the chance to properly assess with his eyes.

There are a bunch of minor splinters and cuts surrounding the main wound, each individually looking painful, and similar to many road rash injuries they’ve encountered before. The main cut itself is about eight inches in length running in a slight diagonal line from the left shoulder to the spinal cord and down. The problem isn’t the length or the placement, but the depth. There is so much blood running out of the wound that it isn’t possible to see how deep it goes, but the flow of crimson would suggest it went far beyond what one or two stitches could fix. The heat of the flames around them when they collapsed also meant that once the cut was made, the fabric of the jacket and Buck's shirt molded itself to his exposed skin.

Urgency ran through Bobby, his training kicking in. “Buck, I have to get this off of you so that I can use it for compression. Are you feeling lightheaded? Or weak?”

“It’s not bleeding that much is it?” Buck asked instead of answering, but Bobby decided to take his curiosity as a good sign.

“Oh you know, you never do things by half,” Bobby said, attempting to make a joke. “Should I do it fast like a band-aid, or slow?”

“Hen's medical training manuals would say to cool the area down, and remove what clothing you can and cut around the parts that are stuck and leave it alone,” Buck gritted his teeth again. “…but since we don’t have those options…just do it slowly.”

Bobby began to slowly remove the jacket. He tried to ignore the whimpers belonging to the man who’s skin was ripping off his body. He also tried to push away the image of the wallpaper peeling off the old walls when they walked in, the sight before him feeling all too similar. The one saving grace was that Buck’s undershirt could stay on for the time being, so at least that skin was safe until it could be removed under anesthesia.

The minute the fabric is free, Bobby finds a relatively clean spot on it and forcibly pushes it on the wound. Buck flinches when it makes contact, a small sob tearing from his throat. The sound breaks Bobby’s heart. To hear his strongest member in pain again, and not for the first time because of him, makes his hands tremble as they apply pressure. Buck began to hold his inhales again, speeding up his heart rate.

“Breathe, Buck.”

With their lack of supplies, the most Bobby can do now is keep the pressure, hope for a quick rescue, and keep Buck awake.

The red glow from the radio is illuminating Buck’s face as he turns it to the side. Eyes closed, he focuses on his breathing, unaware of Bobby noticing how the harsh lighting makes him look younger; and make no mistake, Buck was in all respects and comparisons, still young. Far too young to have experienced all the hardships he’s faced in the last year, now including this.

Suddenly Buck’s eyes shot wide open. “What happened to the old man?”

Bobby spared a glance around them. The darkness was still present, especially after his eyes adjusting to the light that they were working with. Bobby can’t see a thing.

“I haven’t heard anyone else-"

“Cap, can you go check?” Buck asks.

Bobby blinks in bewilderment. “Buck, I have to keep the pressure on your back-"

“Bobby,” pleads Buck. The use of his first name drives home to Bobby how desperate he must feel. “Just a quick sweep.”

Despite the duty and love he has for his job, Bobby has never wanted to follow protocol less. There’s a paternal instinct that Bobby’s been pushing away for years now rearing in full force. Rationally, Bobby knows that Buck is as relatively stable as he can be, a minute away from him won’t be a death sentence. The irrational side doesn’t want to chance anything.

But there is also someone else in the room who could require medical attention. And Bobby can’t let anyone else in his life perish because of his selfishness.

“I’ll be right back, Buck.”

Bobby stands on quaking legs, and with great difficulty he leaves Buck where he is. Taking uncertain and small steps across the rubble, his eyes slowly adjust the longer he is in the dark. Feeling his way around, he looks directly up for the first time. The floor has only given away where they were standing so far. The reason for the darkness is simple, the hole they created by falling into the basement was refilled by debris. Insulation pieces, housewares, the kitchen appliances, and more beams were all temporarily stuck mid collapse. They looked relatively stuck in place for now, but there was no guarantee they’d remain that way for long. Even worse, any rescue attempts above ground would have to take into consideration that puzzle in order to get everyone below out to safety without squishing them. Formulating that kind of plan could take time Bobby wasn’t sure they had.

“LAFD, call out!” Bobby shouted, still stepping carefully.

Once again, Bobby heard nothing but silence. He suspected he already knew the outcome. The odds were unlikely that a man who had already sustained major injuries prior to taking an unplanned trip through the floorboards would be alive. “LAFD, call out!”

Stepping over broken glassware and china dishes, Bobby scanned for any sign at all. Any markings, trails, or even body parts that could give him some clue. Climbing over another beam he shouts again, “LAFD, call-"

His boot catches on something unexpected as he dismounts the beam, and suddenly Bobby is slamming his chin into a stray broken floorboard in front of him. He wonders briefly why all his injuries seem to be out to ruin his face. Athena was going to be pissed. Other than a scratched chin, Bobby took mental note that didn’t have any new serious injuries from the fall. What he did have was an overwhelming sense of confusion. He thought he was being careful, what could he have hit?

The minute he turns his head to look, he’s filled with a somber sadness.

There’s a stray hand escaping out from this side of the beam. It lays still, with too much debris on top of it to even attempt a one man rescue. The frail hand lays still, fingers curled naturally. To soothe any leftover hope, Bobby reaches to check the pulse. There is no steady beat behind the thin skin.

Bobby says a quick prayer under his breath, wishing the outcome had been different.

He races as carefully as he can back to where he left Buck. The sight of him still laying in the light with the blood strewn across his back could have resembled a biblical painting – an angel robbed of his wings.

“Bobby? Is that you?” Buck asks, his voice sounding strained.

“Yes, Buck. I’m back now.”

“Is he with you?”

Bobby looked at Buck’s face, still floodlit in the emergency radio red light. There was so much hope written across his features. Hen always said he was like a golden retriever, always trusting that he could retrieve anyone. Bobby knew that despite the fact they’d only known the man for a few moments, Buck would take the loss personally.

“I’m sorry, Buck. He died on impact.”

For the first time since they woke up in this mess, Buck’s waterline began to swim with tears. His demeanor was crushed, his shoulders sagging in what could only be described as utter defeat. He shakes his head again, and bites at his bottom lip in shame.

“It is my fault…” Buck whispers.

Whether he intended to be heard or not, Bobby admonishes him as he reapplies pressure on Buck’s back. “You were not responsible for this, Buck. His death is not on you. We can’t save everyone, you know that.”

“You can’t tell me I didn’t kill him, Bobby!” Buck unexpectedly yells. Tears are flowing freely down his face, a floodgate opened. The hands laying near his face and side ball into tight fists. “The only reason he is dead is because of me!”

Stunned by the outburst, Bobby goes silent. He’s seen Buck blame himself in the past for not being quick enough or good enough to make a save, but something about this time feels different. “What makes you think that?”

Buck turns his face away, not wanting to be seen but still speaking loud enough to be heard. “When that beam was falling, it was heading directly towards you. It broke through the floor as I tried to push you out of the way. But by pushing you out of danger, I abandoned the person who needed our help. I could’ve shielded him as we fell through the floor, and saved his life…but all I could think about was saving you,” his voice broke at the end, but he persisted on in his spiel. “I abandoned him, and he died, Bobby.”

Buck’s breath stuttered, and he had to pause before continuing. “Because I couldn’t lose the most important person in my life, he lost his.”

The need to hold the man outweighed everything else. Bobby reached under Buck’s armpits and carefully and slowly pulled the younger man towards himself on an angle. Keeping pressure on the wound with his hands as he pulled Buck towards himself, he rocked back and forth. Buck’s sobs picked up in intensity.

There were a few times in his life where Bobby considered himself rendered speechless. Most of the time, he knew what he could say in any situation. Even if it was only nonsensical assurances or cliché advice that nobody wanted to listen to, it was still something he could offer. In this case, Bobby didn’t know of a single word or phrase that could assuage the guilt threatening to overwhelm Buck.

It was all he could do to hold Buck close and fight off his own tears.

* * *

The watch on his wrist broke during the fall. The radio’s panel would normally display the time, but that was broken too. They had no way to count the minutes that passed beyond counting the seconds, or observing how long it took for their own tears to dry into a salty crust on their skin.

 _It has to have been a few hours by now_ , Bobby thought to himself. He knew a tricky rescue like this would take time – they’d have to call in backup teams, reassess the structural integrity, weigh all the options, and dig their way in.

All that of course was also assuming that the distress signal they’d sent was received in the first place. It was a dark but sobering thought. Perhaps help wasn’t coming.

Buck was getting worse.

While Bobby was no medical professional, there was no mistaking upon his last inspection of the wound site that an infection was taking hold. The signs and symptoms were all there – Buck’s breathing was short and laborious, the wound site had white pus spots scattered among the crusted and fresh blood surrounding it, and Buck had been growing more and more lethargic as time passed.

Above all, there was the fever.

Buck’s body seemed to be burning itself from the inside out in an attempt to fight off whatever had taken hold. Involuntary moans escaped past his lips as his body continued to switch between shivering and sweating profusely. His skin was burning to the touch, but Bobby still held one of the firefighter’s hands tight within his. The action of doing so was duel purposed, providing grounding for Buck and a way for Bobby to continuously monitor the man’s vitals.

Complications such as cellulitis and sepsis were serious possibilities if Buck didn’t receive help soon.

“Buck, you have to stay awake.” Bobby’s hand on Buck’s back was numb from the continuous pressure. “C’mon, talk to me. Tell me about something, anything. You know me, I hate the silence. What are you thinking right now?”

The light was fading – both from outside and from Buck’s eyes. It was another indicator of how much time was passing. Every second felt precious as Bobby began to lose the light he needed to keep visual tabs on his partner.

Half lidded eyes proceeded to blink sluggishly as Buck tried to form an audible and coherent sentence. “It was my plan…it was a shitty plan…I should’ve listened to you…”.

“Buck, you couldn’t have known that beam was going to come down, especially when we were so focused on the integrity of the floor. It was an oversight, an honest mistake among a brave plan.”

The huff of laughter that Buck produced sounded anything but humorous. The sound rang with blame and self-deprecation. “You’re praising me…for a plan that might end with you being stuck down here alone.”

“Not just me, us. But help is coming-"

“You don’t know that…Bobby, it may yet just be you,” Buck said hopelessly. Despite all that Buck’s gone through, Bobby has only ever heard this helpless tone on one other occasion – the conversation they’d had when Bobby was at risk of chemical poisoning. Buck always did worry about others more than himself.

Realizing that Buck was scared for Bobby only made Bobby’s anger at their situation grow. “Enough with the blame game, self-deprecation, and melancholy. Hen and Chim aren’t going to stop fighting for us, so we can’t stop fighting either. Do you hear me, Buck? The both of us are getting out of here…” Bobby paused. “…so you better hold on, because I’m not losing any more family.”

For the first time in hours, Buck made direct eye contact with Bobby. In that moment, Buck's telltale spark was back, as if Bobby had given Buck a real reason to not give up hope just yet. A mixture of moisture and clarity filled his irises.

Overwhelmed by Bobby’s words, Buck signaled that he was willing to have hope once more with a curt nod.

* * *

There were noises above them, signaling to Bobby that the crews above had been able to completely douse the fire and begin the rescue. He strained his hearing to try and pick up the sounds of any distinct people, words, or machines. Focusing on the commotion above them was made easier by the loss of the light. The two men had been slowly plunged into darkness as time passed.

“You hear that, Buck? That rattling is probably them putting straps around the appliances to lift them straight up and out, so they cut out the risk of them falling down on us.”

Buck had gone silent some time ago. His breathing had remained erratic, the harsh sounds of it confirming that while the fever remained at a high enough temperature to pose a risk of brain damage, he was still alive.

While he didn’t know if it was for Buck’s comfort or his own, Bobby filled the silence with his own babbling. His voice was like glass after he’d screamed out for help at the first signs of human noises. His screaming hadn’t had much effect, he’d gotten no confirmation that he was heard, and so he’d decided to stop until rescue was a bit closer.

“Once those appliances are out of the way, they can peel back the remaining floorboards. Once that is done, they can either send down help or pull us up. If they do send someone down, we can ask that they come prepared with something that’ll make you more comfortable,” Bobby continued. “We’re almost there Buck. You’ll be relaxing on your medical leave in no time, no doubt being showered with food from Maddie, Athena, and Eddie’s abuela. May and Harry are going to be so glad to spend time with you too, and it’ll be a win-win because I’ll get to keep an eye on you if you are at the home too. I’ll put you to work once you feel ready, continue our cooking lessons for when your supply from the girls dwindles. Before you know it, you’ll be back at the station restocking the trucks with Hen, and driving Chim up the wall again with your antics. I’ll get to see that smile on your face again – the one you get when you are completely confident in your abilities to help and feeling the rush of adrenaline-"

Bobby had to pause to take a breath from his rambling. His next inhale was shaky, betraying just how caught up he was in the reality he wanted to be true. He squeezed the hand limply curled around his own. “I’ll be scared to have you back on duty, but I won’t stop you like last time, Buck. You belong at the 118 and I never want to stand in the way of that again. The team and I are always going to have your back-"

Buck stirred suddenly. He became restless, trying to turn over. The movement pulled at the wound, blood slipping down his exposed torso despite Bobby’s efforts. Bobby couldn’t see Buck in the darkness, but he sickly imagined Buck’s lips curved around a silent scream. The gasp Buck released only fueled Bobby’s imagination. Buck’s hand never fell from his superior’s, but the pressure increased from previously limp to a bruising intensity.

“Buck? Hey, can you hear me? You’re okay, kid. We are so close to rescue-“

“Rescue?”

“Yes Buck, rescue. But you need to keep still-"

“Where am I?” Buck asked sleepily.

The air was still warm around them from the fire, but Bobby felt himself go cold at Buck’s words. After the entire ordeal, it was hard to believe anyone could forget they were trapped in a basement. With no way to diagnose any further injuries, and a fever so high that Bobby couldn’t rule out hallucinations, he began to approach Buck with the only mindset that would allow him to keep moving. Buck was an injured patient, and Bobby’s job now was to keep him calm and informed.

“There’s been an accident Buck. We’re in a basement, and you are injured. Help is on the way, but you need to remain still.”

Buck’s more erratic movements were stilled by the sound of a drill above them. Only small twitches ran down his spine, the involuntary actions jarring and periodic.

“Dad? I’m scared.”

_Dad? Did he just call me…Dad?_

There really wasn’t a reason to be shocked or emotional about Buck’s words. The man was confused and in pain, and probably didn’t know his left side from his right in this mental state. It was an easy mistake for him to make, even if he had never said anything like that to Bobby before.

Sure - Bobby called Buck ‘kid’, and Athena often remarked about the familial relationship between the two men. If he was being truthful with himself, Bobby did care for Buck like a son. He’d told Buck only hours prior that he couldn’t lose any more family, and he’d meant it. Bobby just didn’t know if Buck felt the same way, or was delirious. Buck had told him that he considered Bobby to be the most important person in his life, but that didn’t necessarily mean he saw Bobby as a father figure. Bobby didn’t actually know much about the Buckley parents, but those were questions for another time.

For now, Bobby didn’t correct Buck. His aching heart couldn’t bear to tell Buck he was wrong, or admit to himself that Buck might not really mean it.

“I’m here son, you are going to be fine.”

Bobby knew better than to make any promises to those whose lives were hanging in the balance, but in the face of Buck’s panic, Bobby wanted nothing more than to soothe what pain he could. As it was, Bobby’s hands were slick with blood as he held the compress against the wound. The promise wasn’t just for Buck, as Bobby wanted to believe in it too.

After the reassurance, Buck drifted away again, not knowing what memory would be his last. Bobby held his fingers to the man’s pulse and prayed.

* * *

**FOUR DAYS LATER**

* * *

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the station and heading home now. How’s he been?”

Athena sighed. “He’s refusing his painkillers again, Bobby. If he’s going to insist on moving around more than he should, the least he should be doing is making sure he isn’t suffering while doing overdoing it.”

Dumping his duffel bag into his vehicle, Bobby paused. “What do you mean ‘again'?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “When his leg was crushed, Maddie mentioned that Buck was often skipping doses of his pain medication and toughing it out in order to speed up his recovery. We confronted him about it and talked with him, but he asked us not to say anything to you. I don’t know if he was worried more about you thinking he was incompetent, or approaching you concerning the touchy subject of painkillers.”

Bobby never wanted to feel like Buck had to keep secrets from him, or not open up about how he was feeling simply because of Bobby’s own past. “What is he doing now?”

Athena let out a small giggle. “Currently, he is agonizing over middle school math homework with Harry. Take a listen.”

He listened as Athena re-positioned herself and set her phone to speaker. In a muffled voice, Bobby heard Buck’s exasperation. “Harry, when did they change math?...no, moving the ‘3' only gave us a negative answer…I know the back of your book has the correct answers, but I swear that it must be a misprint!”

“You’d better hurry before Buckaroo here undoes all your hard work,” Athena chuckled.

“On my way.”

The drive from the station was made longer by the Los Angeles traffic. With the long weekend coming up every road was packed with people either grabbing supplies to leave early, or filled with tourists arriving early. Being alone in the vehicle with the constant stopping and starting left Bobby with ample time for reflection.

It’d been four days since they were trapped under that house. Buck was still drifting in and out, incoherent during the rappel up and the ambulance ride. Bobby learned that they had been under the house for a total of 18 hours. Buck had required an intensive surgery to flush the infected wound and knit the skin back together. The doctors were able to bring down his fever and rule out any other possible complications. It was the transfusion to replace the extreme blood loss that really took its toll on Buck, leaving him feeling weak and exhausted. He’d had a two day stay at the hospital for observation and antibiotic treatment.

When the two men were separated at the emergency entrance, Bobby had made a beeline for the washroom before seeking his own treatment. The second he glanced at his fingers that had pruned under the constant stream of Buck’s blood, he’d been unable to keep the bile in his throat from expelling. It felt like no matter how well he scrubbed his hands in the sink, the water was still running red down the drain. The doctors promptly treated Bobby for the concussion he received, alongside the two broken ribs he’d barely felt amongst the chaos. There wasn’t much to be done about the bruising on his back but wait it out.

Considering the height of their fall, both men were very lucky to be looking at full recoveries.

Pulling into the driveway, Bobby turned the car off in the garage and said a silent thank you to the heavens. His relationship with his faith was complicated in the wake of his family’s death, but had grown stronger over the years as his psyche continued to heal from the trauma. There was no doubt in his mind that today could have been spent attending a funeral rather than attending to paperwork and returning home to a house that finally felt full. All Bobby had to give back was his gratitude.

May is the first to hug him when he enters the house and passes the banister. They only had a few weeks left before she was off to college, and the knowledge that time together was running out meant May was showing more physical affection than normal.

“Welcome home, Bobby!”

“Good to be home, May,” Bobby replies earnestly, despite his ribs protesting her embrace. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the kitchen, supplying snacks for the boys as they tackle algebra,” May explains. “I think they’re almost done.”

Sure enough, Bobby rounded the corner to the kitchen to spot his boys sharing a high five over what Bobby could only assume was another correct answer. Buck lightly ruffled Harry's hair, chiding “I knew you could do it, buddy,” in a soft tone.

Buck didn’t have any younger siblings to Bobby’s knowledge, but he was always kind to the Grant-Nash children. It didn’t take a mind-reader to see past the twinkle in both his kids eyes and know that they also looked up to the firefighter as an older brother. Bobby understood deeply why Eddie had been so insistent in his decree that Christopher was safe in Buck’s company, because Bobby felt the same way knowing Harry and May were being looked after by someone so protective and caring.

As Buck attempted to stand, his hands suddenly gripped the table in front of him in an attempt to right himself. His eyes were tightly clamped shut, his face carefully stony. He’d never willingly show weakness, especially in front of the kids. His false confidence shone through as he forced a fake smile onto his face for Harry, yet his body remained immobile. Athena and Bobby shared a knowing glance at one another. Bobby knew he had to jump in quick.

“Harry? Why don’t you go wash up and help your mother prepare dinner?” His tone left no room for argument, but Harry did hesitate in concern for the man at the table before slowly padding into the kitchen. As Harry dragged his feet away, Bobby stepped in to fill his place.

Cautiously, unsure of his welcome, Bobby placed a tentative hand under Buck’s elbow in support. Uncharacteristically, Buck accepted the help and allowed Bobby to steady him. “C'mon, Buck. Let’s move you to the sofa.”

They made their way slowly, Buck opening his eyes again finally and attempting to tough it out. He carried the majority of his weight even as his temple began to sweat. His muscles were protesting every movement after the injuries he sustained, and from sitting stoically at the table for so long. If there was one thing Buck wasn’t, it was still.

Bobby lets go only to prepare the pillows on the couch surface for optimal comfort. Once situated, Buck sighs in defeat as his body sinks against the cushions. “I feel like an invalid.”

“You’re not an invalid, Buck,” Bobby reassured. “Your body went through something traumatic. You need to allow yourself time to heal. If you push yourself too fast…”

His sentence trailed off, neither men oblivious as to where it was headed. It wasn’t easy to forget what happened after Buck pushed his leg recovery. The topic was sensitive, even with the passing of time.

“Maybe I should head back to my apartment, I don’t want to burden everyone.”

Buck wasn’t making eye contact again, and there was a shift in his tone that suggested that Buck truly believed his words. Bobby grabbed at Buck’s hand and squeezed it, much like he did down in that basement.

“You are never a burden, Buck. You are recovering at home, exactly where you should be, and where you are wanted.”

Buck looked up, his face red and overcome with emotion. He squeezed Bobby’s hand back, unable to speak around the lump seemingly caught in his throat. From previous experience, Bobby could tell that Buck wanted to say something but would need a minute to compose himself. He was all too happy to give the younger man anything that he needed. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything Bobby had ever been willing to deny Buck, or anything he wanted to.

“Bobby,” Buck tried to start, but his voice sounded raw and exposed. “I meant what I said down there.”

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Bobby racked his brain for which instance Buck was referring to. “You mean-"

“I don’t remember all of it,” Buck cut him off. “But I do remember calling you ‘Dad’. Everything was hot and painful, and I felt really wrong – but calling you ‘Dad’ never felt more right.”

For the first time in days, a genuine smile was painted on Buck’s face. There was still pain lurking in his irises, but the lines around his mouth were true. “Maddie and I don’t really talk about our childhood for a number of reasons, but you should know that while our parents they tried their best, they weren’t great parents. Not like you and Athena. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I know you said once that while the 118 is close, we aren’t a family.”

Buck breathed in and out slowly, calming himself as he continued. “But I can’t help the way I feel, because there is no one else I feel more safe around than all of you. There’s nowhere else that I’ve ever been, no one else I’ve ever shared a table with, that made me feel like I belonged.”

It was everything Bobby had been too scared to voice himself. Buck was right, there was a rightness to their friendship. It felt too coincidental and organic to have been anything but fate.

“I was in denial when I said we weren’t a family, Buck. It is my job to look after all of you, to make sure you come home at the end of the day. I said that in an attempt to distance myself from a truth I already knew had set in. I care about all of you so much that it terrifies me. On every level except biological Buck, make no mistake, we are family.”

Bobby kept going, holding Buck’s hand tight. “You have to know by now, Buck. You are a good firefighter, and a good man. You bring such personality and insight to the team. You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and only your stubbornness could rival my own. You have a passion for what you do, but also for why you do it. I don’t know how I ever got so lucky to have a recruit like you. There is no one else who could ever take your place – both at the stations table, and at my own.”

“What I’m trying to say…” Bobby began to finish, a tear landing on their joined hands. “…is that you make me proud each and every day, son. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Buck nodded profusely, his own tears of emotional release slipping down rosy cheeks. “Thank you, Bobby. For everything.”

That evening, Bobby would convince Buck to take his pain medication and stop punishing himself. A week later, they’d both drop in at the funeral of the old man who died in order to pay their respects. Another week after that, Buck would have his stitches removed and attend therapy, where he would process through the helplessness of not being able to save everyone. A month later, both men would be running back into danger whenever it called. Every day possible in-between, the team would share at least one meal together, brightening each other's spirits.

But for this moment, they held one another close on the sofa, and soaked in the thrill of being alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the longest one-shot fics I've ever written, and my third for this fandom! I was really passionate about this project in particular. It was born from the idea I had one day at work where I was thinking about Buck accidentally calling Bobby 'Dad' while delirious - and now it is a 7K fic with a lot more emotions throughout, and no doubt littered with medical inaccuracy. 
> 
> Thank you for so much for reading if you made it this far! Please let me know what you thought of this! You can find me on my 9-1-1 writing sideblog on Tumblr at evanbuckbuckley118, or you can take a listen to my Evan Buckley Vibes playlist on Spotify (open.spotify.com/playlist/092ddsM2iAU8fUhn00bRmu?si=Ar0q3uToSUWCzo4_3st9Xw)!


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